


Make me

by hazzard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Philinda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzard/pseuds/hazzard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wanted to pin him to a wall and rub herself against him.</p><p>But that would kind of give away that she was attracted to him.</p><p>And, he was drunk.</p><p>And, he had a knife in his hand.</p><p>All around, doing what her body told her to do would be a <em>very</em> bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make me

\- What the hell are you doing?

Melinda stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and she was so close to rushing over there and kicking his ass. But, he had a knife. And she’d always been bad at kicking Phil’s ass. She’d always told herself that it was because he’d get hurt. Why the thought of hurting him seemed so impossible to her, when she was pretty sure that if it had to be done, she’d have no problem taking down anyone else on the team, that was something she didn’t discuss.

Fuck, he was sexy. He was drunk out of his ass (she could smell the liquor from the doorway), but he was still so very sexy. The two top buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned. He didn’t have a jacket on. His sleeves were rolled up.

His appearance did things to her. Things it, with him being her best friend and her _boss_ , should _not_ be doing to her.

 

She wanted to pin him to a wall and rub herself against him.

But that would kind of give away that she was attracted to him.

And, he was drunk.

And, he had a knife in his hand.

All around, doing what her body told her to do would be a _very_ bad idea.

 

He was sitting on his desk and toyed with the knife.

He hadn’t even looked at her.

She was unsure if she’d dare to go closer, but came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t hurt her. Even if he was drunk, he wouldn’t hurt her. The memory of him shooting her with an icer burned her heart for a second, but she stuffed that thought away somewhere deep inside, where it’d been since she’d shown him the Tahiti tape.

She carefully walked towards him and reached out her hand, as to calm him.

\- Hey Phil… It’s me.

Her voice had came out as a whisper.

He looked up.

He looked like crap.

She still wanted him.

What the hell was wrong with her?

He looked down again.

\- What are you doing here?

She stopped.

\- No one’s seen you in like a week. We’re… worried.

 _She_ was worried. No, scratch that. She was _terrified_. Something was wrong. It’d be like the alien writing thing again, except this time, she’d actually have to kill him.

He scoffed, moving the knife from hand to hand, staring down at the floor.

\- I’m fine. Just busy.

Now it was her time to scoff. _Busy?_

\- You’re drunk.

He finally looked at her.

For a long time.

A long, long time.

His eyes were so beautiful.

She wished he would look away.

\- Put down the knife, Phil. You’ll hurt yourself.

He scoffed and turned his attention back to the knife.

\- What are you doing with a knife, Phil?

He stared at the knife and smiled.

His hands were shaking.

\- Don’t you remember? ‘The knife master’?

Oh, _fuck_ no. Not _that_ shit again.

She sighed.

\- You’re not ‘the knife master’, Phil. You’re just drunk.

He looked at her and shook his head, clearly offended.

\- No, I am. I am the master. I could pick a spot, _any_ spot, and throw the knife and have it land on _exactly_ that spot.

He seemed proud of himself. He was so cute. A messed up idiot, but cute. And lovely. And beautiful. And…

She took a breath.

\- Your aim _sucks._

He ignored her and aimed the knife at the wall before him.

\- Stop that. Give me the knife.

He started winging the knife back and forth while staring at the Captain America comic cover (limited edition, 1967) that was framed on the wall.

\- I could throw this knife right into Captain Americas shield.  
\- Don’t, Phil.

He looked at her and smiled. It was one of his confident, self assured smiles.

Those smiles were her ultimate weakness.

She could physically _feel_ her body reacting to that smile.

This wasn’t good. Not good _at all._

\- Put the knife down.

His smile grew even more confident. She silently cursed herself for being so weak.

\- _Now,_ Phil. Put it _down._  
\- Come over here and make me.

Fuck.

Him saying that, looking like that, smirking at her like that…

_Fuck._

Yeah, that’s _exactly_ what she wanted to do.

He bit his lip.

She wanted to kiss that smirk right off his face.

\- You wanna fight? ‘Cause I could take you down.

He still smirked.

\- Yes, you _could._ But you wouldn’t.

_Damn him._

\- Oh yeah? What makes you think that?  
\- You care about me. A _lot._

She couldn’t _believe_ he’d just throw her words in her face like that.

At least he had the sense to look a little guilty.

But he was still smiling.

That fucking _ass._

She wanted to grab his ass.

_Focus._

\- Don’t play with me, Coulson. I’ll kick your ass.

He just continued to smirk at her, held up the knife and arched his eyebrows.

\- Looking forward to it.

She saw red before her eyes. 

\- I will. Don’t think I won’t.

He bit his lip again.

She wanted to do that. She wanted to pull the shirt from his pants, run her hands down his back and feel the muscles move under his soft skin. She wanted to nibble at his throat. She wanted to put her hand down his pants.

_Focus._

He was still smirking.

\- Still looking forward to it.  
\- Shut up.

He arched his eyebrows again.

\- But I think you can’t bring yourself to do it. You just love me too much.

_That’s it._

She rushed up to the desk, pulled him up and fought for the knife. He was a little surprised at first, but found himself quickly.

But she had the upper hand.

He was laying on the floor, she was on top of him, holding his hands down, trying to restrain him while getting the knife from his hand.

She rubbed against him.

She wanted to just forget about the knife, kiss him and continue to rub against him, but with fewer clothes on.

Damn him for making her horny.

He smiled.

\- You like this?

He buckled up against her. A shiver went through her body. She felt herself getting wet.

Oh, _fuck no._

He buckled up against her again. His groin pressed into hers. She could feel that _he_ certainly wasn’t unaffected by this either.

She’d apparently loosened her grip because he managed to push her away and escape to the other side of the room.

The knife was dangling in his hand.

He smirked. She hated that fucking smirk.

\- Giving up already, agent May?

He _wished._

She was on him again. 

She still had the upper hand.

She wasn’t sure if it was because she was better, or because he treated this like a joke.

He hadn’t stopped smirking for a second.

She bit his arm. 

He got so shocked that he paused for a second, their arms were above their heads, both of them were panting slightly.

\- What the _hell_ was that?

She shrugged and smirked at him.

\- Desperate times…

She turned him around and continued to fight. Yes, she loved him. Didn’t mean she should give him any mercy.

He was strong, but she was faster. She could read his moves before he did them. 

The smirk slowly disappeared from his face. He seemed a little tired. The knife was still in his hand.

Suddenly, his back was against the wall, his arms raised, her pinning them down with her hands while holding him in place with her body pressed against his.

They were so close she could count his eyelashes. He breathed heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead.

 _Fuck,_ this was hot. 

He smirked again.

\- You really know how to boss a man around.

She rolled her eyes and tightened her grip around his arms. Fuck, he had the _sexiest_ arms.

He let out a small chuckle.

\- Not that I’m complaining.

She pressed her body closer to his.

\- No?

She’d managed to wipe that smirk right off his face.

He swallowed.

\- Melinda…

She rubbed herself against him, their groins meeting.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

\- Oh _shit,_ Melinda…

_Not so cocky now, are we?_

She leaned in and put her lips on his.

He immediately tensed up, before going soft and kissing her back.

Damn, this was good. 

Her body was on fire.

His kiss was the perfect mix of firm and gentle.

He tasted like sweat and scotch.

_Damn, damn, damn._

She loosened the grip around his arms. He took that as a sign that the fight was over and relaxed completely.

_Sucker._

She quickly got hold of the knife before pulling away.

He stared at her. His hands were still on the wall.

He swallowed.

She wanted to lick his throat.

\- Melinda, what was…

She smiled teasingly and stroked the blade.

\- As I said, _desperate times…_

He blinked. He looked absolutely baffled.

She smiled at him again, before turning around to walk away.

She felt a hand on her arm. She turned around to him.

He stared at her. There was something in his eyes that made her knees go weak.

\- Dammit, Melinda.

His voice was raspy and low.

It was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.

She swallowed and met his gaze.

Before she knew it, he’d grabbed her and pinned her to the wall.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

He licked his lips.

Dammit, if she didn’t want to kiss him again. 

Apparently, he’d understood her signals.

This time, the kiss was much more firm than gentle.

She melted against him.

The knife dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt.
> 
> prompt me on razzledazzlewaffle.tumblr.com
> 
> hope you enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


End file.
